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Jerry Jones' 25th anniversary: Buying the 'Boys; contrarian; winning & losing; Hall of Fame?
DAVID MOORE
Staff Writer
dmoore@dallasnews.com
Published: 22 February 2014 07:32 PM
Updated: 22 February 2014 07:59 PM
Jerry Jones rarely carves out time to relax and reflect.
Why lose yourself in the past when the future holds such promise? Legacies aren’t built on inactivity. There have been years when Feb. 25 came and went without Jones or anyone in his family giving thought to how their lives changed that day.
This year is different. The 25th anniversary of the purchase of the Cowboys is an ideal time to appreciate the accomplishments and acknowledge the disappointments. It’s a time to cherish relationships, recall conflict, celebrate risk and embrace the rewards that will likely culminate with a bust in the Hall of Fame.
It’s the perfect time to pause and put this wild, joyous ride into perspective. The 71-year-old patriarch will do that Tuesday with his wife, Gene, and his family.
“We will raise a glass to 25,’’ Jones promises.
Buying the Cowboys
The date is Feb. 24, 1989. It’s nearly 7 in the evening after another long day of negotiations when H.R. “Bum’’ Bright calls Jones into his office.
“I need to get on with business,’’ Bright tells the overzealous buyer from Arkansas. “You need to go back to your hotel, sleep on it and come back tomorrow and tell me whether or not you will do this.’’
Jones meets with his team of lawyers and accountants. They are taken aback by Bright’s audacity.
Dick Cass, now president of the Baltimore Ravens, lists all of the unresolved issues. Serious financial liabilities remain. There are limited partners to satisfy and legal issues raised by linking the stadium to the franchise. All of this could add another $30 million to the asking price. Cass tells Jones he can’t do it.
The next morning, Cass and his associates are waiting at the offices on Stemmons Freeway when Jones arrives. He walks past them into Bright’s lair and sits down.
“At this number, you’ve got a buyer,’’ Jones says as he slaps down a piece of paper.
Bright reaches across his desk for the offer. It reads $140 million. The two shake hands.
Jones tells Jimmy Johnson he will replace Tom Landry as coach of the Cowboys. Later that evening, Jones and Johnson celebrate at Mia’s Tex-Mex Restaurant on Lemmon Avenue, not realizing it is one of Landry’s favorite spots. Jones and Cowboys general manager Tex Schramm fly to Landry’s vacation home outside of Austin the next afternoon to fire the only head coach in club history.
Months of work remain to finalize the deal. Jones has no authority in the eyes of the NFL and designates Schramm, the man he will soon replace, to speak for the franchise.
The devil is in the details. Bright knows he has the upper hand. Jones is willing to get knocked around to complete the deal but refuses to be slaughtered. There are several significant disagreements.
“Bum, I haven’t put up any money,’’ Jones tells Bright at one point. “What if we don’t agree on this and I take everyone here home?’’
Bright doesn’t blink.
“Well, then I’ve got me a new coach,’’ Bright responds.
Jones later walks away from the deliberations and returns to Arkansas. He comes back. Near the end of the negotiations, the two disagree on who’s responsible for an advance Bright made three to four weeks before the purchase. Both have valid points, so they agree to flip a coin to settle the $300,000 dispute. Bright wins the flip.
Once the deal is finally complete, Bright encases the coin and mounts it on a block to present to Jones with this message: “You will never know if this is a two-headed coin.’’
The gift remains in Jones’ Highland Park home to this day.
Jones, the contrarian
Comparisons are often drawn between Jones and Al Davis, the owner of the Oakland Raiders who died 29 months ago.
There are similarities. But Davis would consistently extend his middle finger to the league.
Jones has taken a different approach. He extends his hand, pulls his opponents closer, forcibly argues for change and works to build consensus.
Five months after Jones purchases the Cowboys, the league owners convene in Chicago to approve a new commissioner to replace Pete Rozelle. The search committee presents only one candidate, New Orleans president and general manager Jim Finks, although it has promised several candidates.
The newer owners in the league balk at not having a voice in the process. Philadelphia’s Norman Braman spearheads the group. Jones becomes part of the block known as the Chicago 11 to abstain, leaving Finks three votes shy of approval.
The process continues. Three months later, Paul Tagliabue garners the votes to succeed Rozelle. The establishment views Jones as a contrarian. The Cowboys owner soon adds to his reputation when he cobbles together a minority faction large enough to deny a push from NBC and CBS to extend their contracts with the NFL at a reduced rate.
The networks argue they are losing $75 million a year and can’t continue beyond the expiration of the deal in 1993. Tagliabue and Cleveland’s Art Modell, the chairman of the broadcast committee, want to accommodate their partners. Jones kills a $238 million rebate on a two-year extension, taking roughly $8.5 million out of every owner’s pocket.
“You’re a risk-taker, a wildcatter. We’re not,’’ one owner tells Jones. “We’ve got a plan to run our team. We may not be satisfied with how much, but we’ve got to know we have this revenue.’’
Tagliabue invites Jones to join the broadcast committee and facetiously charges him to show the other owners how it should be done. Jones cites his I Love Lucy theory from his days with KARK, an NBC affiliate in Little Rock. The station lost money on the reruns but built brand identity and credibility for other programming.
Jones hears that media magnate Rupert Murdoch has interest but is reluctant because he feels he was used as a stalking horse in previous negotiations. Jones sets up a meeting with the founder of News Corp. and Fox.
“I assure you I will do everything I know to do to make sure you’re not a stalking horse,’’ Jones tells Murdoch. “If you do your best to give us the best deal, we will take it or I will holler so that everybody hears.’’
Fox outbids CBS, and the league’s next TV contract jumps from $900 million to $1.1 billion.
Jones isn’t done. He informs the league he will opt out of the trust agreement with NFL Properties when the deal expires in 1995. He believes he can better market the Cowboys brand and logo than the league. He strikes deals with Nike and Pepsi that net more than $40 million for the club. He invites Phil Knight, the co-founder and chairman of Nike, to join him on the sideline for a game against the New York Giants just a few miles from the NFL offices.
The league files a lawsuit in Federal District Court in New York that seeks $300 million in damages from Jones. Tagliabue then summons Jones and a few other owners to the league’s offices in Washington, D.C., for a meeting.
Tagliabue is far removed from his days as a forward on the Georgetown basketball team. But he still uses his 6-5 frame to tower over Jones and others in an attempt to intimidate them. He doesn’t get the chance this day since he’s late to the meeting.
Once the commissioner arrives, he refuses to look Jones in the eye as he addresses the group. He rips the Cowboys’ owner for his tactics and lack of respect for the league.
Jones explodes.
“I have come all the way from Dallas, Texas, to meet with you, and all your ass had to do was walk across the street,’’ Jones said. “You have sued me. I haven’t sued you. I don’t even know if you’ve really read or any of these owners have read what you have sued me over.
“But let me tell you one damn thing. You’re going to read it, and you’re going to hear more about it.’’
Jones slams his fist on the table so hard it sounds like a gunshot. Papers fly everywhere as he storms out of the room and heads for the elevator.
Denver’s Pat Bowlen and Carolina’s Jerry Richardson stop Jones before he leaves and get him to settle down. He returns to the meeting. Tagliabue and Jones are civil to each other.
Six weeks later, with the help of an up-and-comer in the league office named Roger Goodell, the two sides reach a settlement. Jones drops his $750 million countersuit in December 1996 and retains his sponsorships.
Jones recalls those days with great pride. His stand on rights fees brought about what he calls “a quantum leap’’ for the NFL, an assertion that is impossible to argue given the league’s current $4.95 billion contract. He understands now that he could have lost the franchise during his licensing dispute but believes this template benefits the Cowboys and every other team.
“I don’t want to say this as a way of taunting the NFL,’’ Jones declared. “But the only exception in this current labor agreement is that the Cowboys get the right to market their own apparel, hats, caps and T-shirts.’’
Winning and losing
His first season in the NFL is anything but a tour de force as the Cowboys go 1-15. But Jones has defied conventional wisdom to put Johnson in place as head coach and likes his approach. He has faith that rookie Troy Aikman is a franchise quarterback and believes Michael Irvin will become an exceptional receiver.
Jones is confident the October trade of Herschel Walker will yield dividends. He likens the additional draft picks to a gambler who lands in Las Vegas with pockets full of money. That person is a more effective gambler than the one who has only his house mortgage to wager.
Running back Emmitt Smith follows Aikman as a first-round pick in the 1990 draft. The Cowboys still don’t make the playoffs but improve by six games. They make the playoffs the next season and win a championship the next, beating Buffalo, 52-17, in Super Bowl XXVII.
“My favorite,’’ Jones says.
The Cowboys come back the next season and dispose of the Bills again in Super Bowl XXVIII. The game is played on Jan. 30, 1994.
Fifty-eight days later, the growing friction between Jones and Johnson leads to a split. Barry Switzer takes Johnson’s place. The Cowboys lose to San Francisco in the NFC Championship Game to fall short of a three-peat but beat Pittsburgh the next year in Super Bowl XXX.
“The most satisfying,’’ Jones calls his third Super Bowl trophy in four seasons.
Jones loves to take risks. His aggressive style gives the Cowboys an edge. But the league is changing. The inexorable push toward parity introduces a salary cap that proves punitive when risks fail. Jones can’t move on from his personnel and draft mistakes as he once did.
The blue period begins. A team that wins three titles in seven seasons adds none over the next 18. Jones becomes the J.D. Salinger of owners, authoring a classic early in his career only to fade into competitive obscurity.
No owner boasts of more than three Super Bowl titles over the last 25 years. But a number of owners and franchises have won more than Jones and the Cowboys over the last 18 seasons.
“It shocks me with the start we had,’’ Jones said as his voice trails off. He stops to gather himself and continues.
“I look at the numbers like everyone else and ask how in the world have we not been in more Super Bowls. The biggest mess-up I can address is on two or three occasions we had teams that should have been in the Super Bowl.’’
The 2007 team that went 13-3 under Wade Phillips and lost in the divisional round to the Giants tops the list. Jones believes the 2006 team that lost in the playoffs to Seattle in Bill Parcells’ final game as head coach also had a chance. His other candidate is the team that went 8-8 two seasons ago with a healthy Tony Romo.
There have been plenty of achievements and victories in other areas of the franchise. The club’s association with the Salvation Army. AT&T Stadium.
But two measly playoff wins since the last championship is hard to stomach. It alters the narrative.
“As I sit here after 25 years, the thing that bothers me most is that after the excellent blastoff, the excellent start, we haven’t gotten another Super Bowl,’’ Jones said. “More than one.
“That’s where we get, and should receive, criticism.’’
Happy anniversary
Jones talks about the friends he’s made on this journey and beams.
Al Davis. Washington’s Jack Kent Cooke. Kansas City’s Lamar Hunt. All left too soon. The coaches he employed and the coaches he came to know while serving on the NFL’s Competition Committee. The network executives and broadcasters like John Madden. The sponsors. The players.
Five Cowboys players from those Super Bowl teams in the ’90s are in the Hall of Fame. Jones probably will join them one day.
“It would be easy to say, ‘Jerry, win about three more Super Bowls and you might be considered for the Hall of Fame,’’’ he jokes. “But I know the people that are in the Hall of Fame as contributors are not only in there for what their teams did on the field but for what they contributed to the game and the league.
“I do hope the kinds of things we’ve been involved in over the last 25 years have significantly improved the game for our fans. If that’s Hall of Fame stuff, then it’s Hall of Fame stuff.’’
Wealth? The franchise Jones agreed to purchase for $140 million now has an estimated worth of more than $2.1 billion.
Accomplishments? They are numerous. But nothing means more to Jones than having his family by his side. His wife, Gene. His children, Stephen, Charlotte and Jerry Jr., along with nine grandchildren.
This anniversary isn’t about Jerry Jones. It’s about what he has been able to do with his family. It’s about inheriting the tradition that Clint Murchison, Schramm, Landry and so many others built and moving it into the future.
“I don’t know how to say this without looking like I’m complimenting my own picture,’’ Jones said, “but I’m proud of that.’’
DAVID MOORE
Staff Writer
dmoore@dallasnews.com
Published: 22 February 2014 07:32 PM
Updated: 22 February 2014 07:59 PM
Jerry Jones rarely carves out time to relax and reflect.
Why lose yourself in the past when the future holds such promise? Legacies aren’t built on inactivity. There have been years when Feb. 25 came and went without Jones or anyone in his family giving thought to how their lives changed that day.
This year is different. The 25th anniversary of the purchase of the Cowboys is an ideal time to appreciate the accomplishments and acknowledge the disappointments. It’s a time to cherish relationships, recall conflict, celebrate risk and embrace the rewards that will likely culminate with a bust in the Hall of Fame.
It’s the perfect time to pause and put this wild, joyous ride into perspective. The 71-year-old patriarch will do that Tuesday with his wife, Gene, and his family.
“We will raise a glass to 25,’’ Jones promises.
Buying the Cowboys
The date is Feb. 24, 1989. It’s nearly 7 in the evening after another long day of negotiations when H.R. “Bum’’ Bright calls Jones into his office.
“I need to get on with business,’’ Bright tells the overzealous buyer from Arkansas. “You need to go back to your hotel, sleep on it and come back tomorrow and tell me whether or not you will do this.’’
Jones meets with his team of lawyers and accountants. They are taken aback by Bright’s audacity.
Dick Cass, now president of the Baltimore Ravens, lists all of the unresolved issues. Serious financial liabilities remain. There are limited partners to satisfy and legal issues raised by linking the stadium to the franchise. All of this could add another $30 million to the asking price. Cass tells Jones he can’t do it.
The next morning, Cass and his associates are waiting at the offices on Stemmons Freeway when Jones arrives. He walks past them into Bright’s lair and sits down.
“At this number, you’ve got a buyer,’’ Jones says as he slaps down a piece of paper.
Bright reaches across his desk for the offer. It reads $140 million. The two shake hands.
Jones tells Jimmy Johnson he will replace Tom Landry as coach of the Cowboys. Later that evening, Jones and Johnson celebrate at Mia’s Tex-Mex Restaurant on Lemmon Avenue, not realizing it is one of Landry’s favorite spots. Jones and Cowboys general manager Tex Schramm fly to Landry’s vacation home outside of Austin the next afternoon to fire the only head coach in club history.
Months of work remain to finalize the deal. Jones has no authority in the eyes of the NFL and designates Schramm, the man he will soon replace, to speak for the franchise.
The devil is in the details. Bright knows he has the upper hand. Jones is willing to get knocked around to complete the deal but refuses to be slaughtered. There are several significant disagreements.
“Bum, I haven’t put up any money,’’ Jones tells Bright at one point. “What if we don’t agree on this and I take everyone here home?’’
Bright doesn’t blink.
“Well, then I’ve got me a new coach,’’ Bright responds.
Jones later walks away from the deliberations and returns to Arkansas. He comes back. Near the end of the negotiations, the two disagree on who’s responsible for an advance Bright made three to four weeks before the purchase. Both have valid points, so they agree to flip a coin to settle the $300,000 dispute. Bright wins the flip.
Once the deal is finally complete, Bright encases the coin and mounts it on a block to present to Jones with this message: “You will never know if this is a two-headed coin.’’
The gift remains in Jones’ Highland Park home to this day.
Jones, the contrarian
Comparisons are often drawn between Jones and Al Davis, the owner of the Oakland Raiders who died 29 months ago.
There are similarities. But Davis would consistently extend his middle finger to the league.
Jones has taken a different approach. He extends his hand, pulls his opponents closer, forcibly argues for change and works to build consensus.
Five months after Jones purchases the Cowboys, the league owners convene in Chicago to approve a new commissioner to replace Pete Rozelle. The search committee presents only one candidate, New Orleans president and general manager Jim Finks, although it has promised several candidates.
The newer owners in the league balk at not having a voice in the process. Philadelphia’s Norman Braman spearheads the group. Jones becomes part of the block known as the Chicago 11 to abstain, leaving Finks three votes shy of approval.
The process continues. Three months later, Paul Tagliabue garners the votes to succeed Rozelle. The establishment views Jones as a contrarian. The Cowboys owner soon adds to his reputation when he cobbles together a minority faction large enough to deny a push from NBC and CBS to extend their contracts with the NFL at a reduced rate.
The networks argue they are losing $75 million a year and can’t continue beyond the expiration of the deal in 1993. Tagliabue and Cleveland’s Art Modell, the chairman of the broadcast committee, want to accommodate their partners. Jones kills a $238 million rebate on a two-year extension, taking roughly $8.5 million out of every owner’s pocket.
“You’re a risk-taker, a wildcatter. We’re not,’’ one owner tells Jones. “We’ve got a plan to run our team. We may not be satisfied with how much, but we’ve got to know we have this revenue.’’
Tagliabue invites Jones to join the broadcast committee and facetiously charges him to show the other owners how it should be done. Jones cites his I Love Lucy theory from his days with KARK, an NBC affiliate in Little Rock. The station lost money on the reruns but built brand identity and credibility for other programming.
Jones hears that media magnate Rupert Murdoch has interest but is reluctant because he feels he was used as a stalking horse in previous negotiations. Jones sets up a meeting with the founder of News Corp. and Fox.
“I assure you I will do everything I know to do to make sure you’re not a stalking horse,’’ Jones tells Murdoch. “If you do your best to give us the best deal, we will take it or I will holler so that everybody hears.’’
Fox outbids CBS, and the league’s next TV contract jumps from $900 million to $1.1 billion.
Jones isn’t done. He informs the league he will opt out of the trust agreement with NFL Properties when the deal expires in 1995. He believes he can better market the Cowboys brand and logo than the league. He strikes deals with Nike and Pepsi that net more than $40 million for the club. He invites Phil Knight, the co-founder and chairman of Nike, to join him on the sideline for a game against the New York Giants just a few miles from the NFL offices.
The league files a lawsuit in Federal District Court in New York that seeks $300 million in damages from Jones. Tagliabue then summons Jones and a few other owners to the league’s offices in Washington, D.C., for a meeting.
Tagliabue is far removed from his days as a forward on the Georgetown basketball team. But he still uses his 6-5 frame to tower over Jones and others in an attempt to intimidate them. He doesn’t get the chance this day since he’s late to the meeting.
Once the commissioner arrives, he refuses to look Jones in the eye as he addresses the group. He rips the Cowboys’ owner for his tactics and lack of respect for the league.
Jones explodes.
“I have come all the way from Dallas, Texas, to meet with you, and all your ass had to do was walk across the street,’’ Jones said. “You have sued me. I haven’t sued you. I don’t even know if you’ve really read or any of these owners have read what you have sued me over.
“But let me tell you one damn thing. You’re going to read it, and you’re going to hear more about it.’’
Jones slams his fist on the table so hard it sounds like a gunshot. Papers fly everywhere as he storms out of the room and heads for the elevator.
Denver’s Pat Bowlen and Carolina’s Jerry Richardson stop Jones before he leaves and get him to settle down. He returns to the meeting. Tagliabue and Jones are civil to each other.
Six weeks later, with the help of an up-and-comer in the league office named Roger Goodell, the two sides reach a settlement. Jones drops his $750 million countersuit in December 1996 and retains his sponsorships.
Jones recalls those days with great pride. His stand on rights fees brought about what he calls “a quantum leap’’ for the NFL, an assertion that is impossible to argue given the league’s current $4.95 billion contract. He understands now that he could have lost the franchise during his licensing dispute but believes this template benefits the Cowboys and every other team.
“I don’t want to say this as a way of taunting the NFL,’’ Jones declared. “But the only exception in this current labor agreement is that the Cowboys get the right to market their own apparel, hats, caps and T-shirts.’’
Winning and losing
His first season in the NFL is anything but a tour de force as the Cowboys go 1-15. But Jones has defied conventional wisdom to put Johnson in place as head coach and likes his approach. He has faith that rookie Troy Aikman is a franchise quarterback and believes Michael Irvin will become an exceptional receiver.
Jones is confident the October trade of Herschel Walker will yield dividends. He likens the additional draft picks to a gambler who lands in Las Vegas with pockets full of money. That person is a more effective gambler than the one who has only his house mortgage to wager.
Running back Emmitt Smith follows Aikman as a first-round pick in the 1990 draft. The Cowboys still don’t make the playoffs but improve by six games. They make the playoffs the next season and win a championship the next, beating Buffalo, 52-17, in Super Bowl XXVII.
“My favorite,’’ Jones says.
The Cowboys come back the next season and dispose of the Bills again in Super Bowl XXVIII. The game is played on Jan. 30, 1994.
Fifty-eight days later, the growing friction between Jones and Johnson leads to a split. Barry Switzer takes Johnson’s place. The Cowboys lose to San Francisco in the NFC Championship Game to fall short of a three-peat but beat Pittsburgh the next year in Super Bowl XXX.
“The most satisfying,’’ Jones calls his third Super Bowl trophy in four seasons.
Jones loves to take risks. His aggressive style gives the Cowboys an edge. But the league is changing. The inexorable push toward parity introduces a salary cap that proves punitive when risks fail. Jones can’t move on from his personnel and draft mistakes as he once did.
The blue period begins. A team that wins three titles in seven seasons adds none over the next 18. Jones becomes the J.D. Salinger of owners, authoring a classic early in his career only to fade into competitive obscurity.
No owner boasts of more than three Super Bowl titles over the last 25 years. But a number of owners and franchises have won more than Jones and the Cowboys over the last 18 seasons.
“It shocks me with the start we had,’’ Jones said as his voice trails off. He stops to gather himself and continues.
“I look at the numbers like everyone else and ask how in the world have we not been in more Super Bowls. The biggest mess-up I can address is on two or three occasions we had teams that should have been in the Super Bowl.’’
The 2007 team that went 13-3 under Wade Phillips and lost in the divisional round to the Giants tops the list. Jones believes the 2006 team that lost in the playoffs to Seattle in Bill Parcells’ final game as head coach also had a chance. His other candidate is the team that went 8-8 two seasons ago with a healthy Tony Romo.
There have been plenty of achievements and victories in other areas of the franchise. The club’s association with the Salvation Army. AT&T Stadium.
But two measly playoff wins since the last championship is hard to stomach. It alters the narrative.
“As I sit here after 25 years, the thing that bothers me most is that after the excellent blastoff, the excellent start, we haven’t gotten another Super Bowl,’’ Jones said. “More than one.
“That’s where we get, and should receive, criticism.’’
Happy anniversary
Jones talks about the friends he’s made on this journey and beams.
Al Davis. Washington’s Jack Kent Cooke. Kansas City’s Lamar Hunt. All left too soon. The coaches he employed and the coaches he came to know while serving on the NFL’s Competition Committee. The network executives and broadcasters like John Madden. The sponsors. The players.
Five Cowboys players from those Super Bowl teams in the ’90s are in the Hall of Fame. Jones probably will join them one day.
“It would be easy to say, ‘Jerry, win about three more Super Bowls and you might be considered for the Hall of Fame,’’’ he jokes. “But I know the people that are in the Hall of Fame as contributors are not only in there for what their teams did on the field but for what they contributed to the game and the league.
“I do hope the kinds of things we’ve been involved in over the last 25 years have significantly improved the game for our fans. If that’s Hall of Fame stuff, then it’s Hall of Fame stuff.’’
Wealth? The franchise Jones agreed to purchase for $140 million now has an estimated worth of more than $2.1 billion.
Accomplishments? They are numerous. But nothing means more to Jones than having his family by his side. His wife, Gene. His children, Stephen, Charlotte and Jerry Jr., along with nine grandchildren.
This anniversary isn’t about Jerry Jones. It’s about what he has been able to do with his family. It’s about inheriting the tradition that Clint Murchison, Schramm, Landry and so many others built and moving it into the future.
“I don’t know how to say this without looking like I’m complimenting my own picture,’’ Jones said, “but I’m proud of that.’’
